Waterloo Page #4

in love with its commander.

A few shots from the French

and they'll be themselves again.

- I like the cut of your men, Gordon.

- Forward fellows with a bayonet.

Meat and eggs from the cradle up,

and a lemon a month.

All from my own acres.

I've bred 'em myself.

Some there could call me

more than Colonel.

Indeed.

- That must be the whole army.

- They're still positioning, Sire.

Never interrupt your enemy when he's

making a mistake. That's bad manners.

It's a bad position, Wellington.

That wood behind us is unsound.

If they push us back it'll be like

a wall. The army will be cut to pieces.

There is no undergrowth there.

A battery of nine pounders...

A whole army can slip through it

like rain through a grate.

It's suicidal,

if you want to know.

You may be surprised to know

that I saw this ground a year ago -

- And I've kept it in my pocket.

Obviously, he's no student of Caesar.

He's positioned himself badly.

He has the trees at his back.

We'll give him no provocation.

Maybe he'll leave tonight.

Come on. You're nosing your way

right into the pot.

There you are!

Look, keep quiet

and I'll only eat half of you.

Forgive me, sir, but...

If you took the troops into confidence,

they would know what they were about.

If I thought my hair knew

what my brain was thinking. -

- I'd shave it off and wear a wig.

Here comes old Atty.

Get to your feet.

- Your old friends, sir.

- The Enniskillen.

I hang and flog more of them

than I do the rest of the army.

- Good evening.

- Good evening.

A fine night, sir.

Take off your pack, sir.

- Me, sir?

- You, sir.

- Open it, sir.

- Yes, sir.

I knew something queer was

scratching my back, sir.

Where did you acquire

this plunder, sir?

- This, sir?

- That, sir.

No, sir.

This plunder acquired me, sir.

Do you know the penalty

for plundering, sir?

- Stoppage of gin, sir?

- It's death, sir.

Sir, I have to report this

little pig has lost its way. -

- And I'm trying to

find her relations, sir.

He knows how to defend a hopeless

position. Raise him to corporal.

Play the goat next time, Paddy,

and you'll be a Sergeant.

I don't know what they'll do to

the enemy, but they frighten me.

Dirty night. Hard morrow.

- De Lancey.

- Yes, sir?

If I fail tomorrow -

- I hope God will have mercy on me.

For nobody else will.

Why is he standing there?

What is his reason?

Has he lost his caution? There must

be something I don't understand.

If only Blucher could outrun Grouchy,

and give me even one corps.

All depends on the Prussians.

Why does Grouchy only do

six miles a day? I do ten.

The muddy slope will help us.

They'll slither up to it.

But the roads could slow Blucher,

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